Vladimir Nabokov. Una cuestión de honor
"Anton Petrovich, excuse me for asking," said Mityushin, "but it's important. You don't have anything to entrust to us? I mean, papers, documents. A letter, maybe, or a will? It's the usual procedure."
Anton Petrovich shook his head.
"Pity," said Mityushin. "Never know what might happen. Take Henry and me—we're all set for a sojourn in jail. Are your affairs in order?"
Anton Petrovich nodded. He was no longer able to speak. The only way to keep from screaming wa